


three strikes and you're out (the way of you and me)

by orphan_account



Category: The Yogscast
Genre: Angst, Fluff, M/M, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-11-14
Updated: 2015-01-07
Packaged: 2018-02-25 09:46:31
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,068
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2617370
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The first kiss was an accident.  Really.  Strife didn’t seem to believe him, though.  ~Blood & Chaos Fic</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

The first kiss was an accident.

An unfortunately timed stumble, and an unfortunate proximity to Strife, and the next thing he knew he was sort of shoving his tongue into his ex-boss, current loyal cultist’s mouth. But it was all entirely innocent.

Really. Strife didn’t seem to believe him, and refused to visit for a record-breaking month. Despite Parv’s whining, pathetic letters and messages, he seemed hell-bent on avoiding the blood mage.

Then one day he showed up again, no mention of the ill-fated meeting of lips or the consequential no-contact, and everything was back to normal. At least Strife seemed to feel that everything was back to normal. It seemed he’d gotten over his anger and assumed that was that.

Except for Parv, it wasn’t over. Yeah, the first kiss was an accident, but …

He didn’t regret it.

~

The second kiss wasn’t exactly an accident.

But it wasn’t like Parv had planned it or anything! Strife had been explaining something about sorting systems to him, droning on and on, and while usually Parv appreciated Strife’s excellent teaching skills, this time he found his thoughts and his eyes drifting to Strife’s lips. And Strife didn’t seem to notice, carried away with his explanation of something or other, so Parv continued to stare. And suddenly, he wasn’t staring anymore, he was clutching Strife’s face with both hands and pressing his lips against the other’s with a frantic urgency born of lust and – and –

Strife’s hands were quick as they pried Parv’s grip free and shoved the skinnier man away.

“Parvis,” he said, and nothing else.

Parv felt like a child caught stealing a cookie. “Sorry, Strife,” he muttered, eyes cast down onto his ratty sneakers.

Strife sighed a tired sigh, then said, “Jesus, Parv, go find someone else on this server to fuck with. Alienating your one ally throughout all this isn’t exactly a smart move, okay?”

“Yeah.”

Silence surrounded them. As the moments passed, Parv glanced up, finally.

Strife’s brow was furrowed, and he seemed to be more tired than angry. “Look, Parvis, I think it’s time I go back home for today.”

“’Kay,” Parv said in his most pathetic voice.

“I’ll see you soon,” Strife said begrudgingly, turning away and powering up his jetpack. Parv’s face lit up in delight.

“Okay, bye-bye, parvoir,” he said excitedly, waving at Strife’s back.

There was no response, but then, there usually wasn’t.

~

Parv had no excuse for the third kiss, except that he was hopelessly enamored with Strife.

He’d always liked the other man, even when he was still trying to ignore Parv in the hopes that he’d leave. He was so self-righteous and so, so serious; but sometimes, he’d crack a joke or say something silly and Parv knew that was his influence and truth be told, there was little he enjoyed more.

But since the first (accidental) kiss, and the second (less accidental) one, he’d been plagued with thoughts of Strife – lots of them. All sorts of thoughts about Strife. Not the ones he’d had before about how to prank him or concerns for his general well-being. These thoughts tended to run into the NC-17 territory, and were making work with Strife increasingly difficult. (Parv didn’t have a good attention span on the best of days, and with these thoughts parading in his mind it was a wonder that anything got done at all.)

Somehow Strife seemed not to notice. Parv had to wonder how that was possible, but in the end chalked it up to him being a better actor than he’d thought.

But Strife, frowning at him so grumpily from the other side of the blood altar as he went on and on about “taking responsibility for all this potty-mouth wizardry” was suddenly and totally irresistible. He was so cute, his brows drawn together and his mouth set in a grumpy frown. And before either of them noticed, Parv had already made his way around to the other side of the altar. He lifted his left hand to Strife’s cheek, tilting the other man’s head toward his. Strife noticed then.

“Parv?” he asked, and his voice sounded so, so tired and far away.

And without any thought, Parv leaned forward the remaining distance and pressed his lips against Strife’s.

One of Strife’s hands came up to grip Parv’s hair, tugging on it almost painfully as the stockier man pulled Parv’s face closer, his mouth opening to admit Parv’s tongue.

Parv wanted to melt into Strife, wanted to mold their bodies together and become so closely entwined that they would never come apart. He wrapped his right arm around Strife’s lower back to pull them flush against each other. And then something that sounded like a moan escaped Strife’s lips and Parv couldn’t stop his hips from thrusting into Strife’s stomach, the increased pressure a blessed relief.

Then the hand let go of his hair and the warm, sweet mouth pulled away and Parv wanted to cry in frustration. But only a moment later he felt a pull on the button of his jeans and a frantic tugging on the zipper and Parv thought, finally.

He opened his eyes to see Strife on his knees in front of him, eyes fixed on the bulge in Parv’s jeans even as he yanked them and his pants down. And then Strife’s hands were on him, and Parv let out a long moan as he watched the tanned fingers stroke firmly along his member. 

“Strife,” he muttered. It almost sounded like a curse.

Strife ignored him, moving his hand firmly to grip the base of Parv’s cock. And then he leaned forward and took Parv into his mouth. He waited, tongue resting gentle and warm along the bottom of Parv’s member. Parv nearly whined with frustration. “Please, Will, come on.”

Whether it was the words or his tone, Strife acquiesced. He began to bob his head up and down, rapidly, mouth enclosed firmly around Parv. He mixed up the rhythm; fast and then a slow, luxurious move back, running his tongue along Parv in patterns too complicated for him to fully register. Parv’s hands came to rest in Strife’s hair, fingers digging into his scalp.

The noises coming out of Parv’s mouth sounded too loud, echoing against the tall stone ceiling of Castle Parv. He bit off a curse and then gasped brilliantly, breath ragged from strain. He felt almost self-conscious of the noises escaping his mouth.

But then Strife leaned in, way in, and took Parv’s member fully into his mouth, and Parv lost all form of thought. 

He could feel the strain in his lungs and the uncoiling tension in his gut and the wonderful overwhelming pleasure of warmth and wetness and pulsing movement and he was about to, he didn’t know if he could wait, “Willllll I’m going to come.” But Strife didn’t pull away, didn’t change his pace, didn’t listen to a word Parv said and that meant that he was going to, he wanted to –

Parv came abruptly, a long low moan escaping from his throat as he gripped his own thighs tightly, mind fuzzy as the sense of wellbeing spread throughout his entire body. His eyes shut of their own accord, reveling in the afterglow. It had been too long, God. 

The warmth pulled away and the cool air hit Parv’s damp cock abruptly, and he let out a small whine of disappointment at the loss of Strife’s mouth.

He tried to blink his eyes open, fighting against contentment which threatened to put him to sleep. He couldn’t forget Strife.

Strife, who had stood and turned away, walking several paces toward the stairway upstairs. In fact, he was still walking. He was walking . . . away? Leaving?

“Will?” Parv asked, confusion and hurt coloring his tone. “Where are you going?”

Strife stopped. Parv watched his shoulders rise as he drew in a deep breath. “Home,” he said, and his voice was curt, deep, and level. He sounded annoyed. Inconvenienced. Like he always sounded with Parv.

Fuck.

Strife didn’t bother to look back or wait for a response; he began walking at an even faster pace to the stairway now, shoulders set with determination.

“Wait, Strife!”

He didn’t.

Parv reached down to yank up his pants and jeans, fastening them quickly as he raced toward the exit. “Strife!”

But by the time he’d reached ground level, Strife was gone, nothing more than a speck in the sky headed north, where Parv knew Strife Solutions lay. And Parv stood watching him until he disappeared out of sight.

~

Parv had never really considered before how quickly a kiss could fuck up his entire life.

Well, it wasn’t just a kiss, technically. Strife had given him a blowjob. Strife had given him a blowjob.

He was torn between jumping up and down in joy and whining with loss because as great as it was in the moment, Strife was gone now and Parv didn’t know if he was ever coming back.

And as much as he pretended otherwise, Parv did really need Strife. He knew that instinctively; all those strange, fluttery feelings in his chest aside, Strife basically was Parv’s superego: without him, there was no logical or morality to guide his actions. And that was bad.

Was it?

Who believes Freud nowadays, anyway?

Whatever. Parv had done all right before he’d met Strife, and he was going to do all right now that Strife had left him for good. (Ignoring his complete inability to so much as farm or cook food. He had endless bread now; he was fine.) He definitely didn’t need Strife.

Not even a little bit.


	2. Chapter 2

He didn’t miss Strife. He didn’t miss Strife and he had most certainly not purposefully flown by Strife’s Tower, he had only been adventuring and happened upon it completely by accident.

But once he was there he figured he may as well see what Strife was up to; just because he hadn’t seen Strife in over a week didn’t mean they weren’t still allies, right? He was pretty sure.

Strife was probably worried about him anyway. Strife was always worried about him. He never could believe that Parv could take care of himself. That’s fine. Parv liked the attention.

It wasn’t hard to find him. Strife was standing outside by a large glass building – a greenhouse? But he wasn’t looking up. His nose was buried in his clipboard, as usual. Parv took a final blood-strengthened leap and landed, suddenly and neatly, on the glass roof of the building.

“Strifey!” he said.

The businessman looked up, his head jerking suddenly toward Parvis. His mouth opened, then closed. He frowned.

“Parvis, what the hell are you doing here?”

“I’m definitely not visiting, I was just on my way to go adventuring and well you know how it is.”

“No, I don’t think I do.” His hands shifted to land on his hips. He didn’t look pleased.

“Aw, Strifey, don’t be such a spoilsport.”

“Look, Parv, why did you come here? Haven’t you given me enough grief already?”

“Whaddaya mean?” Parvis asked, dropping down from the glass building to the floor beside Strife.

Strife stared at Parv, the look on his face a combination of angry and tired. He shook his head slowly.

“I’ve taught you everything I can, Parv, and I have other things to do. I’m a busy man; I’ve got a business to run. I don’t have any time to help you figure out how to ruin yourself with blood magic, okay? Go to Ridge, or Dave or - or anyone really. I’m done, Parvis, I can’t take it anymore!”

No, Strife didn’t do this. This wasn’t allowed. He complained a lot, but – but saying he didn’t want to talk to Parv at all? Ever again?

“But, but don’t you want to stay allies with me? Since I’m so powerful?”

“I don’t have allies,” Strife said, voice harsh. “You’re no exception.”

Parv’s eyebrows drew together in an expression of pitiful hurt. “Why are you being so mean, Strifey?”

“Maybe because I’m sick of being toyed with and manipulated, Parvis!”

Parv recoiled. “No – what are you talking about?!”

Strife took a step closer, visibly seething now. “Don’t you think I know what you’ve been doing?! You can’t just use people like that, Parvis, and I don’t care whatever justification you invented to make it sound better in your head. You don’t own me, and you don’t get to control me like that!”

“I – I don’t –”

“Oh, don’t play dumb, Parvis. The looks. The kisses. It was bad enough when I thought you were making fun of me, but this? Expecting me to come crawling back to accept whatever scraps you’ll toss in my direction? I have more self-respect than that.”

Parvis took a step back, bumping into the wall of the glass building. The cold seeped in through his thin T-shirt, and he shivered. “Strife-” he said plaintively, but Strife ignored him, turning away and rushing back toward his main building. The massive door swung open, some fancy Strife-like contraption, and slammed closed. And once again, Parvis was left staring dumbfounded at the place Strife had stood only a moment ago.

~

Parvis was very good at getting himself into messes. That was the most likely explanation for the fact that Ridge was now prowling around his base, inspecting his blood altar and whatever else happened to be within sight.

“So what did happen between you and your boy toy anyway?” Ridge asked, voice light and amused (as usual). Parvis feigns ignorance (he’s good at that).

“Who?”

“You know, ‘Argh I’m so serious, I’m the best and the smartest guy, ugh Ridge sucks’.”

“Oh. Strife?”

“Yeah, Strife! Jeez, Parv, you take a hard hit to the head recently?”

Parv pouted as Ridge’s gaze fell on him. “I haven’t seen him in sooo long, I forgot.”

“You forgot who Strife was? Hah, Parv, you seriously need to get the hang of life.”

Parvis shrugged, jumping up from his balcony seat and leaping down to the bottom floor. “Anyway, Ridge, wanna go beat the shit outta some mobs?”

Ridge shrugged and grinned. “Sure. Am I your new bestie now that you’ve ‘forgotten’ about Will Strife?”

“Yeah. Whatever.”

“So touchy, though. What happened?”

“Stop!” Parv snapped. Ridge raised his eyebrows in surprise, but his face was smug. “Stop talking about him!”

Ridge paced slowly toward Parv, expression mischievous. “Lover’s quarrel?”

Parv pouted and turned away, even as Ridge continued to approach. Ridge leaned in, resting his arm on Parv’s shoulder heavily. His mouth little more than a hair’s breadth from Parv’s ear, Ridge murmured, “I can help you make him jealous.”

“Jealous?” Parvis asked, oblivious to the mood, his voice at a normal pitch.

Ridge leaned back, obviously a bit annoyed. “Yeah, jealous. You do know Strife is head over heels for you?”

Was he? That made . . . a lot of sense. Parvis frowned in concentration, thinking back to what Strife had said.

He said Parv was manipulating him, toying with him – oh! It was so obvious now! Strife though Parvis was only playing with him, when in reality it was Parv’s emotions that were playing him. SO did that mean-? He only had to tell Strife that he liked him, and everything would be okay?!

Parvis threw his arms around Ridgedog in an over-exuberant hug, the latter only raising his eyebrows mildly at Parv’s outburst. “Thanks Ridge, you’re the best!” Parv exclaimed, before turning and running out the exit.

Ridge was a bit miffed, but decided not to let such an opportunity go to waste; he continue to prowl around Parv’s base.

~

Breaking into Strife’s base wasn’t hard, but Parv still felt nervous, because he’d never been inside before. The rooms were built tall, and empty somehow, though packed full with machinery. Parv’s base had the villagers, the witches, and Steven, so it always felt like someone was there. No wonder Strife visited him so often – he must be lonely.

Only imagine how lonely he must’ve been now, with no Parv to keep him company! Parvis couldn’t wait to see him and tell him the good news.

It wasn’t exactly easy to find Strife, but Parv found him in the end, slumped over some machine block and snoring faintly. Parv shook his shoulder until the shorter man’s eyes blinked open, vibrantly green and intensely confused.

“Parvis . . ?” he muttered, rubbing at his sleep-deprived eyes.

“Don’t worry, Strifeykins, I’ve figured it all out!”

“Figured what out?” Strife said. Parv took this as a good sign.

“You’re in love with me, right?”

Strife bolted upright, sleep driven from his expression by shock. “Parv-Parvis, what?”

“That’s why you got so angry, you’re in love with me, right? Don’t worry, Will, it’s all good!”

Strife pulled himself to his feet finally and stepped away. “Parvis – what are you doing in my base?”

“Once I figured it out I had to come tell you. It’s okay, Strifey, we can be friends again!”

“What – what are you talking about?”

“You’re in love with me,” Parvis said, waiting for Strife to get it. “I understand now, I figured it out!”

“Parv, that doesn’t change anything it’s just –” a frown broke out on Strife’s face. “Wait – you just figured this out?”

“Well you should’ve made it more obvious, silly,” Parvis said, taking a step toward Strife.

“I don’t know how I could’ve,” Strife said begrudgingly, warily.

“But now that I know it’s all good. No problem.”

“What do you mean, ‘no problem’? That literally changes nothing, Parv. It’s exactly what I was talking about before.”

“No, no, Strife! No, silly, I like you too!”

Strife fell silent, eyes wide and watching Parv carefully. “You . . . ‘like’ me?”

“A lot,” Parvis said eagerly. “A lot, a lot.”

Strife groaned with faint exasperation, his head dropping into his palm. “You couldn’t have told me this before?!”

“I thought you knew! Why didn’t you tell me?”

“I thought you knew,” Strife snapped. Then he paused, appearing to purposefully hold himself back. “Okay, fine. So we’ve cleared that up.”

The two men fell silent, staring at each other in equal parts confusion and desire. Then Parv took a lurching step forward, and threw his arms around Strife, planting an overenthusiastic kiss onto his lips. Strife made a vague noise of discontent, but returned the kiss anyway.

And despite Strife’s lack of an actual bed, they had quite the memorable night.


End file.
